Sand, Salt, and Sacrifice
by jc55555
Summary: This is a story of the life and times of Finnick and Annie. From childhood, to hunger games, to adulthood this story will follow their journey's, hardships and triumphs. Rated T for content.
1. Chapter 1: Much much different

**Howdy ladies and gents, this here be my story of the secondary characters Annie and Finnick. I have a certain soft spot for the characters that weren't elaborated much on, so i thought i give it a try and see where it went. Enjoy and please review!**

**Cheers. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**

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District 4 sat quiet and complacent, the unrelenting sun beating down on the already bronzed inhabitants as they swung their worn nets into the swirling sea. A small silhouette sat crouched and silent in the shade of one of the many trees that lined the shore in inconsistent patterns, rapid hands working away at a masterpiece of intertwined rope.

"Do you think you could teach me how to do that?"

The silhouette jumped and turned to see a young boy of 8 sullenly looking at the half-finished net, trails of dried tears and an angry red mark across his cheek.

"Ya, I guess so," the silhouette conceded, shifting over so the boy could sit down comfortably.

"I'm Finnick," the boy said, grasping a loose strand of rope.

"Annie." Was the silhouettes reply, her miniscule hands continuing what they were doing as Finnick looked on struggling to replicate what she was doing.

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Annie smiled a slow creeping smile that drawled across her pale lips, her small feet tip toeing in silence as she prowled behind the hulking figure of her best friend. He stood at the edge of the dock silently, gazing out into the sea as he absent-mindedly played with the piece of rope he kept tied around his wrist. She crept closer, white dress billowing slightly in the salty wind and with a triumphant war cry she lunged forward, toppling both of them into the clear water below.

"Annie! What the hell!" Finnick sputtered as they both resurfaced, Annie dissolving into laughter as she caught sight of the very damp Finnick O'dair. He looked sternly at her for a second, until the traitorous smile she knew would surface gripped his cheeks and dimpled them.

"You know, most people don't want to be on my bad side," he threatened, wiggling his eyebrows. Annie giggled.

"Most people aren't me," and with that she dove, under the water swimming as fast as she could to the shore knowing that Finnick would be following closely behind. Laughing and dripping wet Annie sprinted up the sandy beach, not caring that she resembled a living dirt monster as the sand clung to her wet skin and clothes.

"Annie Cresta, you'll be sorry for that one."

Strong arms wrapped around her waist as she felt herself being tackled to the ground, swallowing half the beach in the process. She struggled futilely against the thickly muscled arms that Finnick had acquired after years of working his father's fishing boat, the smell of seaweed and salt enveloping her. Finnick chuckled deeply and released his grasp on her wrists, rolling to the side as they both clutched their sides in fading laughter, squinting through the midday sun.

Annie glanced over, wincing as she caught sight of deep purple bruise angrily living on the slope of his jawbone. Annie remembered in a flash the firs time he had come to her, a small drippy nosed boy who had been wandering the beaches for hours with the outline of his fathers hand on his cheek. Not much had changed since then, Finnick's heart was just as soft as the day they had met, though his childhood should have made him otherwise. They hardly spoke of Finnick's home life, and Annie knew only scraps more than what the general public did. Finnick's mother had died in labor, the only good outcome of that situation being the birth of Finnick himself, but to his father the death of his wife at the hands of his child was an inciting incident into the downward alcoholic spiral he had found himself in. It wasn't uncommon to find Finnick with an unsightly bruise or angry red mark adorning his beautiful face. Annie had asked him about it once or twice, always receiving the same stony-faced answer of "It's nothing" or "It doesn't concern you".

Anger shook silently inside of her, Finnick oblivious to her inner turmoil as he sighed contently while the sun dried their bodies.

"Are you scared?" He asked suddenly, and just like that, the warmth from the sun was leeched from Annie's skin and she shivered. The reaping was tomorrow, the only day of the year that she lived in fear, the only day of the year that disrupted her homely life in district 4. Annie was young still; a mere girl of twelve, and the chances of her being thrown into the hunger games were slim to none. Finnick on the other hand, had found his way into many compromising situations at the tender age of 14, which had resulted in the punishing task of adding his precious name into the forsaken bowl of reaping papers.

Annie thought about her answer carefully. For such a young age, she was an "old soul" as her parents had put it, contemplating the good and bad for each answer. She wasn't scared for herself necessarily, but Finnick's fate weighed heavily on her mind.

"I don't think so…" She answered tentatively "you?"

Finnick swallowed loudly.

"A little," he answered. Finnick was a boy of few words, but he lacked the ability to hide his emotions well. Annie sat up and looked down on his tormented face.

"You shouldn't be scared," she reasoned "there are hundreds of other kids in district 4, and a lot of them have been in trouble more times that you." Annie poked his ribs playfully, eliciting a small sad smile from him. He nodded as though she had reassured him, and he gathered himself together and stood up.

Finnick hardly looked his age; tousled golden hair landed messily over his bottle green eyes that seemed to pierce through he anything he settled his gaze on. His towering stature of just over six feet dwarfed Annie, but she knew that beneath his powerful body sat the soul of one of the kindest people she had ever met. He had few male friends at school because he lacked the heart to be able to participate in their antics. He blushed when a girl walked past, he cringed at the schoolyard fights they started, and stood thick tongued at the masculine words they spoke. No, he certainly wasn't like all the other boys at school, he was much much different.

A vicious yell carried over to them on the breeze, and Finnick flinched as he recognized his father's slurring words.

"I think I have to go, see you later Annie" was all he said, as he sprinted lithely through the sand in his bare feet towards the swaying boat his father had docked outside of their meager home. She watched him go silently, shaking some of the loose sand off of the white dress her parents had so recently bought her, thoughts of the reaping almost forgotten as she trudged home alone. Her long brown hair catching slightly in the wind as the sounds of a heated argument flowed past her, Finnick's voice calling back in defeat as the sound of an older man's words became louder and louder with aggression.


	2. Chapter 2: A beautiful Liar

**Hey guys! So I'm just trying my hand at this whole writing shindig. Tell me what you think with a review if you so desire! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nuh-thang.**

**Song for chapter: 9 crimes by: Damien Rice.**

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I rolled over as the early morning sun beamed through my trashed curtains and onto my face. The small shack I called home creaked and moaned as the light breeze outside shook what very little support it had.

"Get up boy. You'll be late," my father snapped at me through the jarred door as he walked by. A lump formed in my throat. _Damnit_, _why do I have to be so sensitive_. It wasn't that i particularly cared how my father treated me, I was aware of the poorly hidden disgust that was there, but on days like today it hurt all that much more.

Swatting furiously at my sleepy eyes I lumbered from my bed to the nearly bare closet and dug to the back until I caught hold of the reaping day clothes; a sea blue long sleeve shirt and white shorts. I thought darkly that this could be the last time I would see this closet, the last time I would feel the cool sea air blow through the holes in these makeshift walls. I gave my head a shake, vowing not to think like that, if anything I had my youth, and that was something worth at least a try at optimism.

A loud knock sounded on the door, and I knew before I answered it that it would be the peacekeepers coming to escort me to the town square.

"Let's go," the peacekeeper commanded. Without so much as a glance in my direction my father and I obeyed silently and followed him out of the house to join the masses of people walking in the dirt roads. Hundreds of children lined the roads like cattle being sent to the slaughterhouse, all blank faced, all dressed to impress in case they were called and brought to the attention of the capital. I felt someone nudge my side as I joined the pack and looked down to see the wide eyes of Annie staring back up at me.

"Hey Annie," I smiled, "where are your parents?" I glanced around realizing she was on her own.

"I told them I wanted to stand with you this year," she shrugged. I smiled slightly, touched by her wanted companionship.

The town square opened up in front of us opened in a flurry of movement as we were ushered into our respected age lines. Peacekeepers pushed us past, ticking off our names as we established who we were. I kept an eye on Annie as she was pulled to the other 12 year olds, and I to my respected 14-year-old age division, making sure she wasn't lost in the bustle of the crowd. As spunky as she might be, her frail body failed in comparison to her personality.

I knocked shoulders through the crowd as I watched her bobbing head sink into the taller statures of her peers, reaching down and grabbing her shoulder as I came behind her.

"Why does it seem like I'm getting shorter every year…" she mumbled, glancing wickedly up at the bodies that dwarfed her. I chuckled.

"You'll grow some day Annie-bear" I crooned, grabbing her cheek and pinching as she let out an angry huff and slapped away my hand.

"You're not funny Odair," she shot back, crossing her arms. The age difference between us matter little, and I barely gave notice to it over the years of our developing friendship. Unlike my school acquaintances Annie didn't ask questions, not about my father, not about my home life, not about my future, she just lived. I envied her for that. She was able to go through each day without worrying about the possible outcomes to her life.

Peacekeepers closed in on the crowd, shushing and threatening as the capitol representee walked cautiously out from the shadows on the makeshift stage that was erected year after year. Her hair was a disconcerting shade of burgundy, swirling in small curls that wrapped around her ears like vines and came together behind her neck in an elaborate knot. Her cheekbones protruded from beneath her flesh like angular knives, tinted in a deep rouge that disallowed for any emotion to be shown. She looked around nervously, unable to shake the hostile looks that she was receiving from the gather crowd.

"Welcome, district 4!" she squeaked into the microphone. The crowd shifted, and then fell silent once more. I glanced down and caught sight of Annie doing a horrendous impression of the capitol speaker, pinching the tops of her cheeks and pulling the skin out to resemble the spikes the woman had had implanted on stage. I stifled a laugh, coughing awkwardly as peacekeeper eyed me from the sidelines. I elbowed her lightly.

"It is my grand honor to announce to you the tributes from district four. Let us start with the females shall we."

Annie tensed beside me, her tiny body taught with the anticipation of what was to come…

"Amalia Hett!" She shouted shrilly. I inwardly sighed, thanking the odds that Annie had been spared on her first year, though it had been no surprise. The sea of children parted directly to my left as a tall girl mere feet from where I stood, began her journey towards the stage. Her eyes were staring ahead of her body as though they weren't perceiving what was happening, a terrified smile plastered on her pale face. This was the moment that stole my breath, that moment when the chosen child realized they were walking to the gallows, to their death, to the place they knew they would never return from. Amalia's broad shoulders rounded on the audience as she stood beside the capitol representative, her long blonde hair noticeably trembling as it sat against her shaking body.

The speaker offered no kind words to the horrified girl beside her, but pleasantly rolled the glass orb of boy's names towards her outstretched hand.

"And our male tribute will be…" she paused and plunged her claw adorned hands into the deadly sea of possibilities, grasping the pour soul who would have to join Amalia in the fight for their lives. The speaker struggled for a few minutes as her long burgundy nails fumbled with the clasp on the paper, rustling against the mic. She read the name first, the glanced out to the audience with a smile.

"Finnick Odair!" she happily said. I glanced around waiting for the children to part once more and let whomever this sad boy was pass through and onto the stage. Annie tugged on my arm. I looked down at her, shocked to find that her orb like eyes were looking back up at my expectedly. Frowning I glanced around and noticed the crowd had turned, their eyes on me…

A firm arm of a peace keeper shoved my lower back forward, and I scrambled to find my footing as I repeated the name in my head… _Finnick Odair…. Finnick Odair…_

Me.

I felt my mouth tighten into a thin line, my rib cage crushing in and around my lungs as obtaining air became forced and uncomfortable. People shuffled out of my way, as I robotically stepped forward and found the steps to the stage, feeling the unsafe structure wobble beneath my weight. I had thought long and hard about this day, and if I were unlucky to ever have it come into existence. I knew that I lacked the fight, the courage, the heart to do what needed to be done in that arena. I knew that the children who won these games were of a different breed than I was.

I knew I wasn't coming home alive.

The speaker ushered me to where Amalia stood, knowing that my shocked face resembled hers.

"Our tributes from district four!" the announcer yelled as the crowd clapped solemnly like they did every year, sad to see more of the children of the sea sacrificed. Peacekeepers surrounded Amalia and I, forcing us into the open door behind the stage and into a dimly lit hallway that was far too cold for my liking.

"You have twenty minutes" a peacekeeper gruffly told me, as I was ushered into a small room clad with only one chair. I knew what this was, this was the room where I was supposed to answer whomever came to this door and accept their goodbyes.

They would know by now that I wouldn't be coming back alive. A clumsy halfhearted knock resonated in the small space, and I grunted a reply as the door swung open slightly to reveal my already intoxicated father.

"S'good thing they're takin' yuh boy." He started, holding the doorframe for support.

"They'll teach yuh what the real world is about, not that fantasy land yuh call yer life."

I looked at him in rage, grasping the anger that I had so often suppressed as it made it's firey way up my spine.

"get out." I managed through clench teeth, watching in satisfaction as he looked at me in disgust, turned on his heel, and left without another word. I can't say I had expected much more that this. He hadn't been a father to me when I was living, why should he be one to me when I'm dead. Another knocked sounded, and I knew by the way the noise carried it had been made by a delicate set of fingers that could only belong to my best friend.

"Oh Finnick…" Annie gasped as she made her way across the room. She grasped my hand in hers, clenching it with what meager strength she had.

"Finnick… Fin… you have to try. Please. You have to try." She whispered, staring into my eyes with a maturity that wasn't meant for the 12 year old that she was. I swallowed, and found that my mouth was bone dry with fear.

"Annie… You know I can't, you know me. I can't kill those kids!" I said back, realizing too late that the end of my sentence had risen to a shrill cry. A peacekeeper knocked loudly on the door, advising me to keep my voice down. We had all seen the hunger games. As long as we had lived we had been fed the footage of children hacking their peers to pieces in hopes that they themselves would not meet the same fate.

I remembered as a child, watching my father take the sick kitten our household cat had given birth to, cradling it's frail boney body in his hands. The creature wouldn't live, it's claim to life cut short with a disease that had ravaged it's muscles and appetite. My father had known better than me, he had seen the agony the tiny life had been in, and with a stone-faced, had dropped it silently into the sea, not waiting for it resurface. I remember feeling the wet tears roll down my cheeks and tasting the salt of my sadness on my lips. My father had glared at me, barking that I needed to grow up and that if I was ever to be a fisherman I had better wipe those tears away.

I didn't have the heart for the cruelty of life in district four, let alone that arena.

Annie looked at my face sadly. She was at a loss for words, as was I and I knew that the only thing left for us to do was to say goodbye. I stood up slowly, and crouched down so that our shoulders matched in height and I could bring her into a hug. She sniffled quietly into my shoulder, and wiped angrily at her eyes. Never in my life had I seen Annie Cresta cry, and I knew that she wasn't about to let me see it either. When we pulled away the only evidence of her emotions was a betraying shine to the glassy green of her eyes. I gave her a defeated nod, and sat back down in my chair with a silent sigh, watching as her small figure disappeared into the hallway.

I knew no one else would come for me, and in a way I was glad.

This didn't need to be made any harder than it was.


	3. Chapter 3: Wide awake and dreaming

**Hola Mon amigos, Here is another chapter for your enjoyment, please review with any suggestions you may have and what not, i always love input! thank yuh!**

**Disclaimer: I own nu-thhhannnggg**

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**Annies POV.**

I walked down the hallway as quickly as my wobbling legs would allow me, intent on not letting Finnick be able to see the tears that were quickly welling up in my eyes and spilling down my pale cheeks.

My friend. My best friend. Had been reaped.

A small sob escaped my clenched jaw, and I stumbled out of the massive doors of the building and into the glowing sun. I took comfort in its warmth, allowing its rays to dry to the rivulets on my cheeks.

"Annie honey?" A soft voice questioned. I turned to my left and found my parents and older sister staring at me with worried expressions on their face. I nodded, and shuffled forward into their waiting arms.

"It'll be ok Ann, he'll come back…. He'll come back," my mother ran soothing circles over my hiccupping back, and stepped away to wipe off the fresh tears that had sprung to my eyes. I knew that deep within myself I held the answer to all of this. Finnick was too kind hearted, to soft to be able to do what they would soon be asking of him.

My father looked past my shoulder coldly, and I turned to see a pair of peacekeepers motioning in our direction. He gathered his family and turned us towards home walking slowly for my benefit. Canly reached for my hand, and squeezed it in her own, becoming the protective big sister that I always knew she was.

Our house loomed in front of us, a small two-story home that my father had built from the ground up before either Canly or I had been born. In all his life, I don't believe my father had ever been prouder of anything that wasn't that house. He went about maintenance with meticulous care, swept the doorway every morning, and made sure that nothing fell into disrepair. The air inside smelled like _familiar_, and in a way it comforted me, knowing that even though I had lost an important part of my life, I would always have this part to counteract it.

"If it's ok mom, I think I'm just going to go to my room" I cautioned, watching as she pulled out pans and pots for dinner, expecting me to help as usual. She gave me a sad smile.

"Alright sweetheart. Do what you need."

I mounted the steps two at a time and swung into my room, closing the door loudly behind me. My bed was soft and enveloping as I lay down in it, wishing that it would swallow me whole. The Hunger Gams were mandatory viewing, and I knew that sooner or later I was going to have to watch Finnick in the arena, watch as he killed or was killed himself.

I shuddered.

What had the world been like before the Hunger Games.

My thoughts couldn't complete themselves anymore, and I slowly drifted off into a state of neither sleep nor wakefulness, gory images running rampant behind my closed eyelids.

**Finnicks POV**

Two capitol clothing clad officials whisked me from my room once my twenty minutes tolled. Half of that time I was left alone, left to fully realize what was happening to me, and what was to be expected of me.

", it's time to leave." They had said, motioning for me to follow them. I trailed behind with a heavy heart and what felt like hollow useless legs as we walked through the building and to the small discreet train station at the back. Amalia was brought to my side as we both boarded onto the train; mouths closed tightly and pained expressions on our face. I had known her in school; she was a couple of years my senior and a little strange like myself. She wasn't exactly pretty, but almost good looking by default of long legs and flowing blond hair. I glanced at her and gave her a weak smile; she merely looked away, unwilling for any sort of camaraderie.

I trembled.

If I wasn't able to make friends from my own district in this game, how was I supposed to make alliances in that arena?

The inside of the train was decorated elaborately, rich tapestries draped from the ceiling and covering the walls in fabric paint. I couldn't help but be in a mild state of awe as I saw all of the paintings and gold that seemed to cover every corner, I had never seen anything so expensive in my life. I reached out to touch a golden statue in the corner of a corridor as we were escorted through the train still, but I quickly retracted my hand as I noticed the thin layer of grime that had taken home there years ago and persisted in staying. I blushed with embarrassment. I already felt like I didn't belong here.

_Breathe Finnick breathe._

Amalia and I were shown into an extravagant dinner hall where an enormous glass table took up residence. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I took in the tens of plates with every kind of delicacy you could imagine piled high.

"Don't eat it all in one go now boy." A raspy voice cautioned from behind me. I turned around and blushed once again.

"I'm Mags," she introduced. She glanced at the male standing beside her "and I call the boy."

I stood there confused as to why she was claiming property of me.

"I'm to be your mentor." She clarified. I smiled weakly at her; wary of her tiny aging frame and severe grey eyes. The man standing beside her shrugged and stretched out his hand to Amalia, grabbing hers and kissing it lightly. A strange glint sparkled in his eyes, and I noticed just how beautiful he really was. Dark hair fell into his golden eyes, and he smiled with his perfect set of straight teeth.

"Henry," was all he introduced himself as. Amalia was burning a bright right as she tried to compose herself in front of her new mentor.

"Well, no use in letting all of this food rot while we make our pleasantries. Go ahead, who knows how many more meals you have left,"

I balked at the sheer boldness of Mags' words, realizing that yes, she was very much so right. Who knew how many more dinner times I had left. Amalia seemed to have the same reaction, shooting Mags a dirty look as she pulled out her chair and sat down opposite of Henry.

It was slightly comforting to know that I didn't have to tip toe around Mags with the fact that I would probably not come out of that arena live.

I focused on the food in front of me, piling my plate high with fried fish and all sorts of colorful fruit that I had never seen before. But when I put the food to my lips, I found that it all tasted of sand and my stomach gurgled in protest. With a grimace I placed what I had in my hand back onto my plate, and grasped a glass of water for the rest of the meal, sipping lightly.

"You'll need your strength for training tomorrow boy." Mags cautioned. I looked at her helplessly.

"I can't eat it." I rasped, surprised that my voice was so hoarse after only hours of not using it. She chuckled at my discomfort and shrugged.

"Do as you please."

"Do you mind if I just head to my room?" I asked quietly. Mags looked at me, and for the first time I saw something kind staring back.

"You're excused." She relented. I looked at her gratefully, and clambered from my seat and following back down the hallway that I had came. A peacekeeper pointed me in the direction of four separate doors just to my right and I thanked him quietly as I searched the nameplates for my own.

_Finnick O'dair_

I twisted the handle and stepped into a dimly lit room made of granite and white marble. I gaped at its magnificence, stunned into silence as I closed the door softly behind me. Small lights hung from the ceiling like indoor stars, swaying ever so slightly to the motion of the train. My bed sat in a corner, massive and possibly the most comfortable looking structure that I had ever seen. I walked over to it quickly, stripping off my dirty reaping clothes and climbing in stark naked, feeling the softness of the sheets against my skin like a luxury. I pushed my matted hair from the forehead, and let out a deep breath that I felt I had been holding since the moment my name was called.

_What am I going to do?_

I felt a lump growing in my throat again, and I inwardly cursed at my inability to hold any emotion. Mags didn't know what she was getting herself into when she had chosen me. My eyes drooped heavily against the tops of cheeks, and I gratefully closed them as I felt sleep take me away from the pounding of my heart, and the aching in my lungs from the exertion of keeping my panic under control. I drifted into a state of neither sleep nor wakefulness, images of gory deaths flashing behind my closed eyelids.


	4. Chapter 4: Just a feeling

**I'm an updating fiend lately, and hopefully i can keep up this pace and continue with this story. Thanks for the review i received! love feedback, corrections and criticism. Anywho, enjoy and review if you so desire!**

**Song for this chapter: water and wine by: Aleah**

**Disclaimer: This ain't ma stuffffff. **

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**Finnicks POV**

I woke up to a dull thud penetrating my sleep; the sound of a fist on the door across from my bed pulling me from my dark dreams of glassy eyed children with fangs for teeth and daggers for hands.

"..coming!" I stuttered, ripping back the covers and quickly realizing that I was still naked. I snatched a towel off of the pile of white linens placed at the foot of my bed, and wrapped it around my waist.

"Yes?" I asked, as I swung open the door, rubbing at my eyes as the hallway light spilled into my dark room.

Mags chuckled.

"Put on some clothe Odair, I expect you at breakfast in 15 minutes." She sniffed indignantly.

"And maybe take a shower while you're at it."

I blushed a light pink, and nodded in compliance before she walked away, slightly favoring her right leg. I slipped the towel back off again and threw it onto my bad while I stretched my cramped muscles, working out the stiffness of my nightmares in the perfumed air of the train.

…._clothes?_

I looked around in circles until I placed a large chest of drawers standing silently in the corner of my room. The first drawer held every kind of undergarment you could ever imagine, all the color of coal. I examined the pair I had pulled out, unused to such luxuries. The second drawer contained what I thought were girls shirts…tiny _tiny _girl shirts. In all the fabric was no wider then my thigh; I looked at it in wonder.

_How in the hell am I supposed to fit into this?_

I stretched it this way and that, realizing the black material didn't seem to have a breaking point, or a point where it couldn't continue to grow. I guess this was all I had to work with… The last drawer kept numerous pairs of black cargos pants, all my size, all the same and without thinking a snatched a pair up and took all of my new clothing to the washroom in preparation.

Fluorescent lights sprang to life as I flicked the switch to reveal the largest bathroom I had ever seen in my life. Marble counter tops spread on for feet of uninterrupted smoothness, a steal sink and glass shower the only objects that stopped its reign. I threw my clothes onto the counter, turning the hot water knob in the shower, and stepping into the steaming oasis. Dangerous thoughts began to fill my mind as I processed what my day of training would look like. This would be the day that I met all of the other tributes, the day that I would have to learn what my special skill would be. So many things bombarded my mind that I switched the water to an icy cold temperature and focused on the searing pain that shot through my limbs as my body heat was snatched from my skin.

Shivering, I stepped out from the shower, and five minutes later I was in the clothes I had picked and was out the door and walking towards the same dining table that I had eaten at the night before.

The shirt I wore looked as though it had been painted on, and it showed off my muscled upper body nicely. I silently thanked my physically intense upbringing, flexing my abs with a smirk as the six pairs become satisfyingly pronounced.

"Someone is a little confident" Scoffed Amalia as she stepped beside me in a similar outfit. I blinked rapidly, realizing her top was nearly as tight as mine.

"Don't stare too long, I might take it personally," she sneered, and rounded the corner to the dining room. I frowned and followed her in, disapproving of her hate for me and feeling a raw anger grow in the pit of my stomach.

"Bout time kids, don't wanna be late on your first day," Henry grumbled as we took our seats.

"Alright, goals for today, lets go over them shall we?" Mags suggested lightly. I looked at her expectedly and snatched a warm bun from the plate in front of me, munching quietly.

"I want you to go to every station. Now I know that both of you won't be able to do everything, hell you're certainly not careers," I grimaced at the insult "but it's worth a try to see if maybe you have some sort of hidden skill not even you are aware of."

Both Amalia and I nodded at Mags.

"If you find a skill that you can bank on, don't show it off. Keep it hidden until scoring day, we don't need to tip off any of the other tributes about what you can do."

I nodded finishing my bun, and grabbing another one.

"Good. Now that that's settled, eat up, you're going to need your strength for today."

**Annies POV**

Sun light trickled in to my room, it had to be midday, but I hadn't left the safety of my covers since I had woken very early in the morning. My mother had come by for a while; sat with me and stroked my hair like any good mother would, but after realizing I was unresponsive had given up and left me to my devices.

I didn't cry, or scream or talk about how unfair life was because I know that that wasn't what Finnick would have wanted me to do. I played with the long fur on my childhood teddy bear, remembering how Finnick had teased me for weeks on still having it when I was eleven. I knew what he would be doing today; he would be training, training to kill whomever he encountered in the arena. I hated thinking about that, thinking how the capitol people were going to turn my sweet, soft-hearted best friend into a killing machine for their enjoyment.

"Annie honey!" My mother called from the bottom of the stairs, "lunch is ready!". My stomach growled angrily as I remembered that I had skipped breakfast in preference for my solitude. Grudgingly I swept the sheets aside, scrunching my eyes as tiny stars appeared in my vision from standing too fast.

The stairs disappeared behind me as I took a seat at the small modest table my father had carved from wood he had chopped himself, the smooth surface cool beneath my sweaty palms.

I looked up at my mother blankly, appreciative that she didn't try to make me talk about it. She placed a steaming bowl of fish stew in front of me and I began to immediately pick at it, finding the smallest pieces and consuming them like a bird.

"Honey, you can't starve yourself over this. You're small enough as is," my mother encouraged. I didn't respond and continued my tedious eating. I was tired of people assuming my weakness from my lack of size. Yes I was small, yes I would probably benefit form a hardy bowl of stew, but I certainly wouldn't die without it.

"I think I'm going to go for a swim." I muttered, pushing away my bowl and speeding through the door and into the dirt road that led to the beach. The air felt good against my skin, and I twirled a little as my feet met the sinking sand of the beach and its warm pooled around my ankles. Not bothering to strip off my dress and swim in my underclothes, I sprinted for the dock and barreled into the air, gracefully diving into the calm salty waters that I had grown up in.

The icy chill swallowed me whole as I sunk deeper and deeper, only turning to face the surface when my lungs burned from emptiness and I was forced to break through the waves and suck in a breath. A pang of loneliness swept through me as I felt the absence of the body that usually accompanied me into the water, the same body I probably would have pushed off the dock before hand. Diving under the water, I desperately pushed the thoughts from my mind and swam towards the shore, feeling the water become warmer as it became shallower.

The beach was silent and empty, symbolic to me as I stretched out in the sand. For some reason I believed in that moment that it wouldn't be like this forever, that somehow, someway my best friend would find his way home. But what I wanted, and what actually happened was usually opposite.

_Who knows, _I thought.

_Maybe this time it will be different. _


	5. Chapter 5: Inky Orbs

Finnicks POV

The training area was vast and open, Amalia and I being close to the last ones to arrive to the 11 o'clock practice session.

"See you later kid," Amalia said dismissively, and walked lithely to the knife throwing tables. I watched quietly for a few seconds, taking in my surroundings. Shouts and yells rang out ever couple of seconds both from the exertion and frustration of the tributes. A small boy held a spear that was larger than himself by a long shot, and sunk it deep into the chest of practice dummy, brushing his hands off confidently afterwards.

I gulped.

Glancing around, I located the knot tying station, and hurried over as fast as I could after noticing no one was there.

The rope felt at home in my hands as I twisted it silently and efficiently into the knots that Annie had taught me so many years ago, weaving a net that was close to unbreakable. My neck grew damp with nervous sweat, as I finally finished and looked upwards. All the tributes had stopped moving, and were staring. They weren't staring at me though, and as I followed their eye lines I was brought to the hulking figure of what had to be the lead career this year. He clutched a knife as wide as his torso, flipping it around in his fingers expertly before heaving it forwards with little effort and beheading his manikin in one swift movement. My jaw dropped, and I released my measly net when I caught sight of the tens of beheaded dummies that lay around his station.

_Ya good one Fin, you can tie knots, much more useful then having dead aim with a butchers knife._

That same feeling of raw anger that had been steadily growing in my belly flared as my frustrations towards myself boiled over and I stomped to the spear station as the other tributes dispersed back to their tasks. I surveyed the equipment, measuring the sizes of the spears and the likelihood of me being able to throw them, and that's when I saw it. A shiny structure made of reflective steal, a three-pronged structure I was so used to seeing.

A trident.

I snatched it from its holder, and flipped it around in my hands a few times before turning to the dummy and propelling it straight through the targeted chest of my make believe opponent. I smirked. Maybe I did have something to work with. Mags' words echoed in my head, and I swiftly stepped away from the spear station knowing that after years of impaling fish with said weapon I was in no need of extensive practice.

A tiny hand wrapped around my forearm as I went to turn away, and my first reaction was to turn around and reprimand Annie for startling me. I winced at once, realizing exactly where I was and exactly where she wouldn't be.

"That was pretty good," a breathy voice whispered up at me. The girl couldn't have been more than 12, her massive blue eyes bugging out of her face in an over exaggerated innocence. I looked at her quizzically.

"You're throwing. You hit the dummy right through. It was pretty good," she reiterated. A tentative smiled spread on her face, and I inwardly sighed with relief.

"Thanks," was all I could muster out, before extending my hand and introducing my self.

"Finnick"

She giggled lightly.

"That's a funny name," she chuckled, before taking my hand in hers and giving it a hardy shake.

"Brit."

Brit and I circuited the training area together for the rest of the afternoon, showing each other what small knowledge we had of our own specialties. For me? I was just ecstatic to have made an ally on the first day.

I was exhausted by the time that I found my way back to my room, taking my time as I climbed the glass staircase to view the capitol. I hadn't been able to see much of the city that I would spend my last moments in, having been shuttled through dark hallways and windowless rooms to the training station this morning.

"Hey kid. How did it go?" Mags asked, making me jump from the depths of my thoughts as I entered the dining room.

I shrugged

"It was fine. I made a friend," I added.

Mags looked at me disapprovingly.

"Friends are dangerous in this game, boy. Be careful with who you trust."

I nodded.

"In the end, only one comes out alive."

I shivered, and took a seat across from her. Amalia and Henry were nowhere to be found, but from the unconcerned look on Mags' face I assumed everything must be fine.

"Interviews are tomorrow," Mags said suddenly half way through our meal. I looked at her blankly.

"We need to figure out an angle for you to use, you know, something that the viewers can hold on to and remember you for."

She was met with another blank stare from myself.

Mags pushed her chair back and walked around the table towards me as I dropped my fork and watched her approach. Her wrinkly hands reached towards me and pushed back the matt of hair that fell over my forehead, gazing down at my face and taking in my physical features painstakingly slowly. I felt my cheeks burn as her eyes travelled my body, taking inventory before she stepped away with a smirk on her face.

"Better get used to that boy, because we just found your angle."

That night I slept fitfully, visions of home becoming the setting for my unnerving dreams filled with the same monstrous children as the night before. Their eyes had been replaced with unseeing inky black orbs, their dagger hands feeling around for their surroundings. The dream repeated itself from the night before, I observed these children stumbling around, watched as they slowly neared my solitary body. Their daggers reached towards me, and no matter how much I willed my feet to move I stood where I was until finally the tips of the knife fingers scraped against my chest and sent a searing pain across my heart.

I sat up in my bed with a jolt, grasping my tangled hair in unrest and frustration.

My heart nearly failed as my door swung open just then and three heavily made up human beings bustled in with cases upon cases of god knows what kind of new torture they had for me.

"Is this him?" One asked excitedly? The lady who spoke had canary yellow hair, the color becoming that much more obnoxious as she flicked on the lights in my room. I groaned a little, covering my eyes from the invasive light. A hand enclosed mine and pulled it away from my scrunched face.

"Oooooo, oooo look at his eyes." The second woman crooned, letting go of my hand and pulling the skin around my face in inspection.

"Oh, but that hair, that hair…. No matter, we'll just have to make it shorter than we intended."

"I think it may even be better shorter, it'll show off those cheek bones."

"But Mags said-"

"Mags never said we'd be working with such…. _Raw_… materials."

This must be my styling team.

I looked around in disbelief, as I was pulled from my bed, instantly grateful that I had decided to sleep in pajamas, only to be horrified as they stripped me naked anyways. The table I was placed on was made of cold steel, their cases opened to the side and filled with what I could see as being tools of horrible shapes. Tiny tweezers were put to hazardous work on my eyebrows, tiny stabs of pain eliciting from above my eyes as they extended and retracted at an unbelievable pace.

"Not enough off the left," the canary sang.

A rough brush was pulled through my nest of hair, the ends reaching past my ears when it was finally straight and smooth. Scissors were brought to my head, and large chunks of gold fell to the floor in sad pools as they continued their work, my feet and hands soaking in some kind of solution as they proceeded.

Hours, and several layers of skin later they finally set their tools aside and looked at me with satisfaction.

"By god, I think we've done it" the third stylist said, circling me like a hawk to its prey.

"They're going to love you." The canary said happily grasping my shoulders and looking me in the eyes. They walked me towards the washroom, my body stiff in the suit that they had put me in for my impending interview. The lights were switched on, and the face that met mine in the mirror was an anomaly.

I was speechless.

My hair was tousled to perfection in an effortless way, and my sea green eyes stood out from face like emeralds. Bronze skin glowing, and impressive stature suited to perfection I turned to my stylist team and whispered a grateful,

"thank you."

They all nodded and turned away from me, picking up their cases and relieving themselves from the room.

_This is it._ I thought, and followed them solemnly out of the apartment and down the hallway to where I knew I would find Mags waiting for me with a kind smile and words of hope.


	6. AN

**Hey guys! So I just wanted to put a quick note in to ask what you guys think so far, and if anyone has any suggestions and what not. I've gotten a lot of hits for this story, but not a lot of feedback so I thought I'd put in a little spacer to really give you guys some time. Thanks so much!**

**-Your friendly neighborhood author.**

**P.S. sorry for getting your hopes up for just a crummy authors note :D**


	7. Chapter 6: District 4

**Annie's POV**

"It's on! It's on!" Screamed Canly from somewhere beneath my floor. I jumped up from my quiet corner in my room; dropping the book I was reading and rushing downstairs. I knew I looked a mess, I hadn't slept properly in days, and my clothes were wrinkled from lying in bed all day.

Today was the first televised event of the games…

The interviews.

I was unable to make a prediction about how Finnick would handle his interaction with Ceaser the game host. Maybe he had changed since he had left district four, maybe his mentor was fabulous, or maybe he was simply the same quiet boy with no interest in social popularity.

"You ready?" My mother asked as my family and I gathered on the small couch in front of our television screen. I nodded quietly, and fixed my eyes on the screen as the opening images light up in front of me.

A theme song was belted out as cameras were switched to the live feed of an overly decorated stage with one empty blue couch, and a secondary chair where the fabulous host sat. Ceaser flashed a dashing smile to the audience and viewers.

"_Welcome ladies and Gentlemen_!" He bellowed, flourishing his arms outwards as he stood

"_To the annual Hunger Games_!"

The crowd screamed and cheered, and the cameras panned over to reveal hundreds upon hundreds of colorfully clad guests in the audience. Every shade of hair you could imagine dotted the sea of artificial faces as they looked upon the stage with sick delight.

Ceaser walked around the stage happily as the crowd's cheers slowly died down.

"_I have a feeling these are the best games to come!"_ He prompted, leaving his words in the wake of yet another thunderous applause.

"_But let us waste no time. In the art of tradition, it is my pleasure to introduce to you the female tribute of district 1, Nell Killfire!" _

A stunningly beautiful girl stepped forth onto the stage, a cascading river of jet-black hair straightened to perfection swept overtop of a skintight charcoal dress that pooled around her feet. Ceaser looked at the crowd and mimed his eyes popping out of his head. I scowled, wondering if anyone else was slightly rattled by the fact that her last name had the word "kill" in it.

"_She sure is something isn't she folks!"_ The girl blushed slightly as the cameras focused in on her face. A shiver ran down my spine as she stared directly into the lens, displaying to all 12 districts her inky black eyes.

"_Thank you Ceaser, you're far too kind,"_ She purred as he helped her to the blue couch.

"_So tell me young lady, how has the capitol treated you thus far?" _

The girl waved lightly at the audience, and I was unable to imagine her delicate hands holding a weapon of any sort.

"_Oh Ceaser,"_ she gushed, "_it's just wonderful. The people are lovely, the food is amazing, being able to fall asleep to the view of an entire city at night, I couldn't possibly ask for anything more in my life."_

I felt queasy, twisting my hands around my already ruined dress in anxiety as the crowd lapped up her mushy words in a heartbeat.

"_And I'm sure the Capitol is equally as thrilled to have your presence here! Am I right folks?"_ The audience yelled in agreement.

"_Now, I'm sure you've been told just how truly stunning you are my dear," _Ceaser paused as the rambunctious crowd hooted and cat called, "_but is there anyone special out there that gets the privilege of telling you that on a regular basis?" _He tugged his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Nell looked down with burning cheeks, a slight twitch tugging her lips downward.

"_No, I'm afraid not Ceaser."_

I sensed that her answer held only a partial truth to it, and that she was refusing to bring some part of her history to the televised even.

Ceaser tutted, grabbing her hand in sympathy.

"_I'm sure that won't last long my darling, a pretty little thing like you."_

Nell's eyes looked at him darkly, but the look was gone in a blink as she smiled brightly and mumbled a bashful "thank you."

Ceaser's questions came about in a steady stream as he introduced and interviewed all of the tributes from the first three districts. He dove into their personal lives, their answers (whether true or made up) complimented his questions with astounding clarity and I knew that they had their mentors to thank for that.

"_It seems like our reaping's have turned up our best tributes to date!" _Ceaser said in an exasperated voice.

"_On to district four!"_

This is the moment we had been waiting for, my hands were clammy, and my mouth was dry as he called Amalia onto the stage. She walked into the stage lights, a dazzling blue dress billowing out behind her and setting off her heavily made up blue eyes perfectly.

Ceaser, the ever-present gentleman, offered her his hand and guided her to the tributes seat, settling down across from her.

"_That's a lovely dress you've happened upon my lovely."_ He complimented. Amalia nodded stiffly.

"_My stylists are truly miracle workers, as you can see," _gesturing towards her hourglass figure. The crowd protested, but not as loudly as they had for other such statements from the previous tributes. Ceaser was silent for a second, being able to sense the falseness behind Amalia's posture and response.

I tensed. Even though I had never known Amalia, she was from my home, and she was representing my district, which had fostered an automatic want to see her do well.

"_I'm sure none of us here today would believe your styling team had to work too hard."_ He said smoothly. I let out the breath I was holding.

The rest of Amalia's interview moved along in stilted questions and responses, and I could tell that her nerves had gotten the best of her.

"_Last question my dear,"_ Ceaser said in an almost relieved voice

"_Have we in the capitol taken you away from anyone special back home?"_ Amalia shook her head automatically but the raging blush that crept across her face left many things to the imagination of the audience.

"_Or should I say, taken you away from someone… here?"_ Ceaser winked knowingly into the audience, right to where Henry sat, Amalia's mentor. Henry looked at him in nervous shock for only a split second before smoothing over his expression and smiling slyly at the cameras.

I gaped at the screen. Amalia was involved with her mentor? My mother gasped quietly beside me mumbling about what Amalia's own mother would be thinking right now. My dad chuckled at her side, rubbing her shoulder as the camera's panned back to the female tribute and her devastated face.

The buzzer sounded, signaling that her time on the stage was over and she clambered from her seat ungracefully, waved, and nearly sprinted to the side wings.

Here we go.

I reached over and snatched up Canly's hand, surprised to find that her palms were nearly as damp as mine. I looked over at her television screen illuminated profile, studying her features and expression. Her small nose was twitching in anticipation, bringing focus to her enormous emerald orbs as they swiveled back and forth with the moving pictures on the screen.

I had always been envious of Canly's obvious beauty, and compared to my thin gangly body, her silhouette was that of a woman at the tender age of 14.

"There he is," she breathed.

I turned my focus back to the screen, squeezing my sister's hand as I watched my best friend walk confidently onto the stage.

**Finnicks POV**

Mags whistled at me as I walked towards her, my styling team disappearing into a side hallway I had never ventured down.

"Well, you've done one thing right so far." She winked at me, and I ducked my head in embarrassment, unused to this kind of attention. Mags looked at me expectedly and I offered her my arm as she hobbled down the corridor beside me, sidling up to the other tributes and mentors backstage.

"Now boy, listen to me," Mags commanded, turning my face with her small hand to look at her.

"The Capitol will feed of your weakness if you show it, and not in a good way. This is the first chance that sponsors get to see you, and if it goes poorly I can't say much for your future."

I swallowed hard, and nodded nervously.

"You have an angle," she continued, eyeing me up and down "and I highly suggest you play it up. The styling team didn't make you up to your true potential for nothing. The capitol loves beautiful people, but they love beautiful _confident_ people more."

I could only follow what she said and agree silently, trying desperately to formulate some sort of plan as she spoke.

Ceaser was speeding through the tributes, and before I knew it Amalia had been whisked away to the stage, leaving me at the front of the line and trembling with nerves.

"Don't you dare let them see you nervous boy, these aren't people, they don't have emotions like you and I do, they don't understand what the Hunger Games are like on the other end. Go up there not as Finnick, but as the district 4 tribute and these people are your toys, these people are yours for the taking."

I looked at her with wide eyes, and she reached her hand up to cup my cheek.

"Good luck district 4," she said with a note of finality.

"_Welcome Finnick Odair!_"

I took a deep breath, and slathered on the most dazzling smiling I could muster, stepping under the harsh heat of the stage lights and into the echoing applause of the capitol citizens.

"Ceaser!" I smiled, opening my arms in greeting and shaking his hand heartily.

_Maybe this will be easier then I thought._

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**Thanks for reading guys! Review if you'd like !**_  
_


	8. Chapter 7: Masked

**Annie's POV**

"_Ceaser!_" He exclaimed brightly, and swept his arms open in greeting before grasping the host's hand and shaking it.

"_That's quite the handshake you have there young man!"_ Ceaser laughed, hanging his hand in mock hurt. Finnick chuckled, and I sat quietly, bemused at his ease on stage.

"_I have to confess Ceaser, sometimes I don't know my own strength,"_ Finnick winked at the audience, and the front row swooned openly.

His hair had been cut and combed back, slathered with a healthy supply of capitol strength gel. If possible, his skin gleamed more golden than it had when he left the sunny beaches of district four, and his teeth shone back as a brilliant white in the fluorescent lighting of the theatre.

I had to admit, he was looking rather dapper.

Canly fidgeted beside me, openly gawking at the made up Finnick that sat so comfortably on the blue couch (rather ironically colored for a hot seat).

"_My my, I think we may have a charmer on our hands,"_ Ceaser joked, and was soon rewarded by a throaty chuckle from Finnick. The girls in the vision line of the camera played with their hair, pulling strands out nervously and twiddling them between their fingers in a flirtatious fashion.

"_So tell us Finnick, what has been the best part of your journey so far?"_ Ceaser asked, leaning forward until his elbows rested heavily on his knees.

"_That's an easy one,"_ Finnick said mysteriously, resting forward until his figure matched that of Ceaser's.

"_The lovely woman I've had the luck of meeting here in the Capitol."_

Ceaser threw his head back in an exaggerated laugh and I felt Canly stiffen beside me.

This certainly wasn't the Finnick I knew.

"_Indeed, they are quite lovely if I have the pleasure of saying so myself. Now Finnick, with the opening day of the games coming closer, I assume you have chosen a strategy for your play yes?"_

Finnick balked for only the slightest of moments before leaning back, and crossing his legs non-chalantly.

"_You could call it a strategy yes,"_ he purred, "_but if I told you now, what you have to look forward to?"_

Ceaser let out another belly laugh, and looked at the hysterical crowd.

"_And he has a sense of humor!"_

I was looking at the television darkly, unable to recognize my friend amidst the artificial creature they had put in the spotlight. He answered every question smoothly, with wit and sometimes even a hidden sexual innuendo. The Finnick I knew would have choked on his words and looked down in humility.

"_Everyone, your male tribute from district four!"_

The crowd leapt to their feet and cheered harder then they had for any other tribute thus far, and through my sulking haze I felt my mother rub my upper back and whisper in my ear, "he did well Annie."

**Finnick's POV**

"You did it kid," Mags said joyfully as she slapped me surprisingly hard on the back when I stumbled off the stage.

"They love yuh."

I couldn't argue with the thunderous applause and screams that followed me off, and all I could do was smile stupidly at my mentor.

"Don't let it get to your head though. One time isn't going to keep you alive. As long as you're here, you're the tribute from district four. Nothing else."

I nodded in compliance, knowing that the advice she was giving me right now was what was going to keep my alive. The adrenaline that was pumping through my veins only moments before had already begun to wear off as Mags and I started the trek back to the district four section of the massive capitol building.

"Mags-" I started, genuinely curious as I watched the tail end of Henry disappear into Amalia's room, not bothering to follow us to the screening room to watch the re-run of our interviews.

"It's not against the rules. It's not our business either." She interrupted, dousing the topic before I had even had the chance to bring it up.

"But… she's going into the arena…" I said ominously, not acknowledging the frustrated wave of Mags' hand in front of me.

"So are you, doesn't mean we should all lose hope or ability to live our lives beforehand."

Her words struck me slightly, a small lump crawling its way back into my throat.

_Thought I got rid of that…_

We settled side-by-side on the fancy couch and flicked on the television, me crawling out of my suit jacket and unbuttoning the stiff shirt underneath.

"No need to impress me Odair, I'm not the one you need to worry about," Mags smirked, gesturing to my discarded clothing. I chuckled a little, and made myself comfortable before pulling a bowl of deep-fried carrots onto my lap.

I hardly recognized myself when I walked on stage, all charm and no nerves, smooth and subtle with a hint of sarcasm and humor. Ceaser seemed to like me, playing off the audience and my meager attempts at flirting, helping me out more than I had noticed at first.

"You're lucky he took to you," Mags said, reading my thoughts. I nodded, silently munching.

In all, the other tributes were what I had expected from years of watching the district representatives. Districts 1 through 3 held the most dangerous looking kids, all dark eyed and menacing with lean bodies and trained minds. I knew that in the past they usually formed packs, the strong teaming together to slowly pluck off the weak in cruel and unusual ways.

I thought about the friend I had made during my first day of training, wondering if I should speak to her about forming an alliance in contrast to the careers. The other tributes had been average; coming from the poorer districts had led them to the solution of having little to no volunteers available. Whoever was chosen was chosen, and that was that.

Brit was surely not someone I would keep around for the soul purpose of brute strength, but she was light and smart and couldn't be a horrible ally to have.

"Best be getting to bed," Mags suggested "second day of training tomorrow and the skills show to follow."

I yawned in spite of myself and snatched up my clothing from the floor.

"Mags?" I asked quietly as she turned around from her departure. I bent down swiftly, and planted a small kiss to her withered cheek.

"Thank you."

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**Woah man! Two updates in one day. This one is a filler though, muh bad if ya'll were expecting something deep and dramatic :P Anywho, in response to one of the reviews i received on my last chapter, i have many plans for this story so i believe i will be continuing it for some time. Or until someone begs me to stop :P Thanks for reading! Please review with compliments criticism and ideas, always love that stuff. Until next time! adios. **


	9. Chapter 8: My vow

**What up my lovely readers. So, it has been brought to my attention that i am not following the EXACT pattern of events that a tribute would normally go through before entering a games. I'm aware. I didn't want to be exactly the same, and it's intentional i promise. Also, my crazy OCD about being ridiculously descriptive about everything would make the process of going through every little step to a "t" so fracking long, and no one wants to read thhhattt. But thanks for the heads up! **

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Annie's POV

I trudged back through the door with heavy feet as the sun sank in the darkening sky. School had been long, as always, laden with the gaping hole of my missing friend, and the constant whispering as I traipsed the hallways alone. I'd never been one to make friends easily, not like my older sister. She walking silently behind me, carrying her school bag as thought the weight were going to kill her need she take another step. To my surprise, for the past couple of days she had been sullen and quiet, shying away from her friends and family conversation.

"Hi girls," my mother said happily, wiping her hands on a dishrag as she tucked the casserole she was making into the oven. I nodded in her direction, dropped my books on the table and ascended the stairs quickly into the solitude of my room. I hear Canly murmur a hello as I shut the door and leapt onto my cushioned bed.

Humming quietly to myself, I snapped up the book I had started the evening prior, opening it's pages and relishing in the soon to be makeshift world I would lose myself in.

Finnick's POV

My feet nearly dragged as I pulled my tired body back to my room, aware that I smelled of dried sweat and jittering nerves. It was over, the skills showing, and I had done the best I could do.

_ "Step forward ."_

_I was wearing the same tight black clothing I had trained in, a shiny metal trident gripped tightly amidst my white knuckles. I complied to the request of the announcer, the hollow sounds of my footsteps echoing off the empty walls of the bear training room. _

_ I looked up nervously to where the many faces looked down on me, and I almost couldn't help myself smirking from the metaphorical insinuations of our physical positions. Raising my armed hand to shoulder height, I felt my muscles tense, and with all the might I had, I propelled the weapon into the air and straight through the chest of my make believe enemy. A murmur spread throughout the upper mezzanine, and in haste I picked up a spear and did the same to the manikin next in line, shifting over in small steps to continue my reign with a set of long bladed knives. _

_ "Thank you , you are dismissed." _

_ I nodded stiffly and hustled back through the door I came, passing the girl from district 5 as I went. _

_ "Good luck," I whispered. She smiled tightly, and strode into the gymnasium with her head held high. _

I pushed open the door to the district 4 section, and slumped onto the couch across from Mags' accusing stare.

"How was it?" She said in a scratchy voice.

I shrugged and rubbed the back of my head, desperate for a shower.

"As good as it could have gone."

Mags sighed deeply and crossed her arms, rubbing at her furrowed brow with aged hands. I knew my mentor had dismissed me and I seized the chance to drag my aching muscles into the hot water of my bathroom shower and sit myself underneath the stream as a seething mass of soreness.

Visions of home ran through my mind like a movie reel, still shots and moving memories bringing me back to a place of comfort and warmth. I felt numb whenever I broached the topic of the unspeakable acts I was going to be asked to commit in that arena. I was unable to fully digest the facts of the situation.

"Finnick, it's on!" Mags called from the other room. I ignored her voice, and sat contently at the bottom of the shower, eyes closed and head bowed in submission. I didn't much car for what I scored, didn't much care for how much that may or may not help me with my prospective sponsors. To be honest, I didn't much care for anything anymore.

"Boy!" Mags shouted again. I groaned and covered my ears, still not moving. She seemed to give up after that, and when the water finally began to run cold I stood slowly and exited the shower with raw pink skin. The T.V. had been shut off, the background noise from the speakers no longer there as I pulled a towel around my self, and marched into my room. A note lay solemnly on my bedside table, a single number scrawled across it.

_9._

Without meaning to I exhaled a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding, and slipped into a soft pair of pajama bottoms before curling up in my bed. It was moments like these that had made me wish more than anything that I had known what having a mother was like. What it was like to have someone love you unconditionally, to be there to nurture you and hold you. My father had never been anything like a parent figure to me, his harsh hands and cruel words warded off any sort of relationship we may ever have had.

I remembered the day that I had found Annie on the beach, weaving her small intricate net with fingers that weren't possibly strong enough to create such a wonder. My father had had another one of his blow-ups, landing a solid blow to my young cheek in frustration when I hadn't been able to throw my net right. I don't think I would know where I would be without Annie as a constant presence in my life. Yes, she was younger than I was, but her wisdom was far beyond her ill-equipped years. She was invaluable to me, and I missed her wholly as I lay there in the limbo stage between dreams and sleep, feeling the numbness climb inwards from the outer reaches of my limbs.

_One more day_, I thought.

Mags' words emerged in my memory, "_You are the tribute from district 4, nothing else."_

She was right. In a literal sense that's all I was now, to the people who would keep me alive at least. I had one more day to mentally prepare myself for my task, and I vowed that I would no longer morn for those I missed, or the life that I had left behind.

_The past is the past, the future is yours._

I took in a shaky breath, and finally lulled myself into a light form of sleep, dreaming of beaches and sand and a smiling little girl.

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**Sorry, i know it's short, but life is busy yuh know. Any-who, thanks a ton for reading, and if you so desire please drop a small review for mostly my piece of mind. Writers are crazy people i tell yuh. **

**Until next chapter! huzzah **


	10. Chapter 9: My way

**Finnick's POV**

My last days of training had gone well. Each morning I would locate Brit, greet her with a smile and continue our rounds of the training area together, figuring out whose weakness counteracted whose strength.

"I think we make a pretty good team," Brit smiled one day. I looked at her and grinned back in approval, though I was aware my joy did not meet my eyes.

_Only one person comes out of that arena._

Mags' words rang through my head. She was right after all, the friendship I was making now may very well be my demise.

I couldn't have asked for a better mentor.

She knew when to talk, when to listen, when to be hard as nails, and when to show me the affection I grew up craving.

The lights outside had faded, leaving behind only a dusty pink glow on the distant mountain lines. If I didn't know better, I would say it was beautiful, but I was aware of the disfigured citizens that paraded along the pavement below it.

Tomorrow was the day.

Tomorrow I would find out if I had what it takes to be able to shut off my humanity, and become something that I hoped I would never have to show to the world. I looked down at my shaking hands, wondering if would be able to stand the sight of them covered with another's blood, teaming with the crime and guilt of my act.

"Kid, dinner time!" Mags yelled through my slightly ajar door. Picking myself up off my bed quickly I shuffled out into the hallway and through the dining room doorframe.

Amalia already sat there, her eyes downcast with Henry at her side looking equally as miserable. Mags shot them a disapproving glance, and I could almost hear her raspy voice speak

_Don't act like you didn't know this was coming_.

In a way I felt bad for them, two star-crossed lovers torn apart by a force no one could fight and live to tell the tale. But Henry knew, he knew what was going to be the end result, and yet he had let his own feelings take priority. I watched his hand reach for hers and slide them both beneath the table. She looked at him sadly and smiled.

Silence fell down on us like a thick smothering blanket, lack of moisture gluing my mouth shut as I tried to shove a few snatches of bread down my resisting throat.

"You'll need your strength. Both of you." Mags grumbled, looking at both Amalia and I with a furrowed brow. Amalia's eyes glistened and I swore that in moments tears would be trailing her cheeks, and a lump grew consequently in my throat. I pushed my chair back hurriedly and mumbled an apology as I sprinted from the room, feeling my lungs beg for air that I was unable to inhale. Hyper ventilation ensued as I broke through into my room and stumbled to the balcony on the far end, collapsing in a heap behind the large glass door.

The city moved and heaved below me in nighttime motion, unaware of my turmoil, complacent with its usual schedule as I sat here feeling my bones groan in exhaustion and terror.

I looked around the room as my breathing slowed, spying the large fire place poker and staring it down with deadly eyes.

_I could end this right now._

I scrambled to my feet, feeling the floor sway beneath me as my lack of oxygen sent stars into my field of vision. I walked forward with as much determination as I could muster, aware that I heard voices in the hallway approaching my room. They didn't seem to register though, and I continued towards the weapon I sought.

My hand wrapped around its cool handle, the metal feeling at home in my fingers as though it were the shaft of a trident.

_I want to die on my own terms._

I flipped it around so that the tapered end was pointing towards my abdomen, my muscled arms extended in front of me and tensed to strike when I told them to.

My hands shook, the poker teetering dangerously to each side as another tremor shook my body.

_3_…

I let out a deep breath. Tears spilling down my cheeks.

_2…_

I realized I didn't even anyone to subconsciously say goodbye to, though I was subconsciously aware of a door creaking open behind me.

_Here we go…_

"FINNICK, NO!"

**Annies POV**

The waves lapped at the beach, taking grains of small stone back into the sea with it. Tomorrow was the day that I would have to watch my best friend fight for his life. I wasn't sure if it had really sunk in yet, if I had fully realized everything that was about to happen. I didn't think I would until I saw his face on the screen where it should never have been.

"Annie, honey, time for bed."

I listened to my mother obediently and picked myself up from the sand as she turned around and began the trek back to our house.

The moon shone brightly above me, seemingly larger and more iridescent than usual. Though it was beautiful, I felt a looming ominous lurch in my gut as I looked at it.

"It's pretty tonight isn't it," my mother said lightly, carrying the basket of shells she had collected. I murmured in agreement and rung my hands in my dress, feeling the material scratch against the callouses I had acquired from making nets for my father. My parents tried not to mention Finnick anymore, though I knew they had been quite fond of him. He was polite, quiet and protected me fiercely; anything a parent could have asked for in their small daughters friend.

_"Finnick, I don't think I'm going to school today," I said quietly, an ashen look on my face. He gazed at me curiously._

_ "Why not Annie? It's not because of those girls is it?" Anger seeped into voice on the last phrase, and I knew without having to look that his eyes had narrowed._

_ I shifted my weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. _

_ "We're going to school." He said firmly, and snatched my hand up in his and marched me towards the sterile looking building ahead. Whispers followed behind my small back as we entered the front doors and sped towards our classrooms. Children snickered as I passed, and I could feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment. _

_ "Finnick, I want to go home." I said quietly, tugging at his hand. He looked down at me sadly._

_ "Ok, but we need to do something first." _

_ We rounded a corner, and there stood a small group of 4 girls. They each had flowing blonde hair, quaffed and brushed to perfection as the examined their perfectly shaped nails. _

_ "What's your problem?" One of them asked, glancing at Finnicks angry face and slowly trailing down to my averted eyes with a knowing smile._

_ "I might ask you the same question, or do you have the intelligence level to answer," Finnick fumed._

_ The girls faces turned to masks of rage at the insult he threw towards them, breaking their small circle to form some kind of defensive looking line. _

_ "Money doesn't make you smart ladies, and if I hear about you tormenting any of the younger kids again, the peace keepers will hear about and I promise it won't be in a pleasant way." _

_ The four girls flapped their mouths in silent words; afraid to say anything after Fin had brought the peacekeepers into the equation. They looked at each other, eyes bulging from the petite faces as they turned on their heels and strode away angrily. Finnick let out a deep breath and looked down at me. _

_ "Thanks," I smiled, "I think." _

_ Finnick chuckled and dropped my hand as he steered us both towards the general direction of our classes._

The flashback surged in my mind as both my mother and I walked through our front door. My heart was heavy, knowing that I may never be able to have memories like that anymore…

The main character of them was no longer there.

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys! Please drop a review off and tell me what you think or if you have any ideas you would like to share! Sorry these are so short, but my mind works to fast for me to be able to sit down and write hugely long chapters. Anyways! Thanks again! :D**

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